Hard
by gloriousanon
Summary: A collection of one-shots. Each story recounts horrific experiences of members of the Avengers. Graphic, violent, and unforgiving. TW: everything. You have been sufficiently warned.
1. Taut

**Author's Note: **This set if one-shots are very graphic and unforgiving. I just have these horrific thoughts - how much pain or humiliation or sorrow (what have you) can I put these characters through? How hard is it going to be? What goes through their minds in some of the darkest moments of their lives? **Any trigger you might imagine****, consider it warned against right now.** This includes violence, language, sex, rape, death, and abuse, to rattle off a few if all my ideas come together the way they should. This will **not** be pretty and it is **not** being written as a means of sexual arousal; whatever you happen to do on your own time in the privacy of your own home is none of my business, but I'd like it to be known that this is not the goal of this project.

None of these scenarios are necessarily following the plot of any of the movies or comics universes. There will be very brief background summaries at the beginning of each chapter. I don't know how often I will update, as these are all separate stories.

**Hard.  
**  
**Chapter One: Taut  
**  
**Summary: **Loki is feeling bored and particularly cruel and kidnaps our Cap to relieve said boredom.

Loki looked upon the body before him with mild interest. It gleamed with sweat, motionless. Soon, there would be motion. Loki smiled to himself, the thrill of what was about to happen shooting through him. He was giddy as a child. He stalked around the body slowly, occasionally reaching a hand out to stroke it with a single finger, careful not to wake him prematurely. He wanted Steve to wake on his own.

His mind still reeled with surprise and pleasure at the fact that he was free. Loki had immense pride - there was no doubt about that. Despite this, he had put on a show of regret for his crimes against Midgard. Odin was just so _desperate_ to put his family back together again. Family. Loki sneered at nothing in particular, the disgust filling him. He had no family.

A little bit of tears, use of his talented and clever silver-tongue - kneeling, even. The tears had rolled fat and convincing down his razor-sharp cheekbones, eyes gleaming up at the Allfather. "_Father, please._" It was all a mistake, misplaced anger and hurt, he never meant it to go so far. Even Thor looked upon him with soft eyes after his lengthy apology, as Loki trembled on his knees before Odin. It took much effort not to laugh in their faces. Loki had bowed his head, biting back the grin that threatened to break out on his lips. He pressed his fist tightly against his chest, an effort not to throw his arms up in victory. The old man had believed him. Loki looked upon the memory and felt the same thrill of getting one over on the Allfather, Thor, _everyone_. He had only had to serve a miniscule amount of time without his magic, with that damned muzzle, in a prison chamber. It was hardly a punishment at all, save for the annoyance of the muzzle.

He had been careful not to cause trouble, to eat meals with the royal family. He acted somewhat interested in their conversation, getting along well enough with Thor, but not so much as to be unlike himself. He waited patiently after his sentence was over, days turning into weeks, weeks into months. Finally he couldn't handle it - he had to do something devious. He'd been so _good_.

Steve was truly the most dull creature - more unassuming than Thor, even. He was so pure, and Loki looked upon him with sadistic hunger. He began visiting the Captain's quarters at night, watching quietly, keeping his distance. He learned the soldier's routines. He watched and waited. It's as if he'd been holding his breath for an eternity, and he was about to finally exhale. He shuddered, electricity in his veins. It was delicious. When the excitement engorged his long-neglected member, he swallowed hard and focused on calming down. There would be time for that.

Steve finally stirred. A sound escaped his throat, scratchy with sleep. After a few tries, he got his heavy eyelids open. He didn't recognize where he was. The air was humid and he could feel the sweat on his body, naked and restrained. He couldn't see how, but no matter how hard he tried to move his limbs, they stayed put. He forced himself to focus on something else; he needed to find an escape.

The room was poorly lit. Steve rested uncomfortably on his knees and elbows. He struggled again against whatever was keeping him in place, the panic rising in his throat like bile. "What the _hell_," he muttered. "Okay, Steve. Okay. Calm down. Where are you..."

He turned his head around, studying the room. There was a large armoir in one corner; the walls were covered in intricate and beautiful tapestries, golden threads gleaming within patterns of different greens, silky blacks -

Something ran through Steve's mind, resting on the tip of his tongue. He felt like he might know where he was, or maybe why. It was _just there_, almost making itself known. Almost. Almost...

Before he could figure it out on his own, he watched Loki stroll casually into view. He must've been there the entire time, watching him struggle. "Loki," he growled, a frown knitting his brows together. "I thought they took you back to Asgard."

"They have. And now I've returned." His lips curled in a cruel smile, eyes dark. His skin looked clear of the sweat coating Steve's own body, even with his proper Asgardian clothing. He idly wondered why for a moment, but that wasn't important.

"What am I doing here? What do you want?"

"Oh, but isn't that clear?" Loki walked closer to the man, his groin eye-level with him. He gracefully bent down, his slender fingers grasping his knees lightly for balance. "I want _you_, Rogers."

Steve felt fear prickling his stomach, but he ignored it. He'd helped take down Loki once before - he could do this again. "Where are the others?"

Loki shook his head. "No others. Only you." He reached his hand out and stroked Steve's face before the blond man jerked away from it. Loki sighed appreciatively. It made Steve far more uncomfortable than he initially was, and he fought against the realization of what Loki might have chosen him for.

"Well, soldier. We've much to do on this night. As you've undoubtedly noticed by now, I've bound you with magic." His grin widened as he circled the incapacitated man. "There is no chance of your escaping. As exciting as your thrashing is going to be, I assure you that you will not find a way out of this."

Steve could feel a knot in his throat. His stomach flipped a little. "What exactly are you..." His voice cracked. He couldn't bring himself to ask, didn't want to know the answer. He felt as though he could cry, but he swallowed against the throbbing knot, willing his eyes to stay dry. Loki watched with obvious pleasure, laughing in his face.

"I'm going to enjoy this very much. Tell me, Captain, are the rumors true? Have you remained untouched by another human?"

Steve refused to answer. He wished Loki would stop talking, that he would wake up in his bed and make an effort to forget this bizarre nightmare. The panic came in waves. His heart thudded hard in his chest. Loki wandered behind Steve. He couldn't crane his neck in either direction enough to spot the god. He kept pulling against the magic, his heart sinking a little further each time his wrists or ankles wouldn't budge. He whimpered softly, uncharacteristically.

Loki grabbed a riding crop, slapping it against his palm. Steve flinched at the sound. Loki dragged it over Steve's skin, from the base of his spine to the nape of his neck. "Rogers, I would like to comfort you during this time. I would like to tell you that I won't hurt you very badly and that you may even enjoy this." He brought the end of the crop underneath Steve's chin, tapping it lightly there. "However, I am not in the mood for lies. Odd, isn't it." He laughed, the sound coming from deep inside of him. Steve choked back a sob, trying desperately to hold the fear back.

Loki slapped his face gently with the crop. "Soldier. I grow weary of talking." Loki held the tool in his teeth, watching Steve as he began to undress himself. He could've easily magicked away the clothing, but this... well _this_ was simply intoxicating. He could smell the man's fear, saturating the air. He could taste it on his lips. He was already half erect as he shed his trousers. He watched Steve notice his arousal and shudder in disgust, his horror clear in the way his mouth twisted into a grimace and his averted stare. Half erect quickly turned to throbbing-hard.

_Patience,_ Loki thought to himself.

He removed the crop from his teeth and licked his lips. "This, my dear soldier, is not going to be the least bit pleasant for you."

Before Steve could respond - _if he even had it in him_, the god thought - Loki brought the crop across the man's face repeatedly. He struck hard and fast, across his mouth and cheeks, until blood dripped down his chin. The man held his own and avoided much noise beyond grunting and wincing. His eyes were glassy with tears. Loki paused to inspect them and resumed with the beating when he didn't see any of them shed.

Steve's face finally crumpled and, with a pained sob and a heave of his broad shoulders, they overflowed. Loki immediately grabbed the man's face firmly and lapped the tears, sometimes tasting blood. He imagined he could taste the humiliation. He moaned against Steve's face. An angry sound bubbled up from Steve's chest, voice cracking as he cried. "Oh, you don't enjoy this?" Loki asked, grasping his wounded cheeks in his curled fingers. The man only gasped and sobbed, chest hitching. Loki marveled at how much blood decorated his fingers.

Loki straightened up and walked back to wherever he'd gotten the crop. Steve tried to control his breathing. The still-bleeding slices on his face pulsed with his heartbeat. He tentatively touched them with his tongue, but it burned. He felt Loki touch the backs of his thighs. His body stiffened and he forgot about the sharp pain of his face. "Loki, what the fuck are you doing?" His voice did not crack this time.

Loki smiled, although Steve couldn't see it. He studied the man's buttocks, how muscular they were. "I did not know you used such foul language, Captain. I may have underestimated you a little." His fingers probed the cleft, feeling the tight, hot muscle hidden there. Steve attempted to move, but it was virtually impossible.

"Loki, please don't." Steve pleaded, tears threatening to break free again. His stomach lurched.

"What exactly do you think I'm going to do with you, Captain? Please. Elaborate." Loki spread him open, practically swooning at his humiliation.

Steve let out a tortured sob. He heaved, but nothing came up. "Please don't... don't rape me."

Loki laughed easily, removing his hands from the man's body. "Oh, Rogers. I wouldn't dream of entering your filthy, Midgardian body. No," he said, "I am not interested in coupling with you. However, I'm _very_ interested in knowing just how much you could handle."

Steve heard him make some noises - it sounded like he was moving things around, handling things. He felt Loki's hands on him again, and something pushed against the muscle. "Loki-!" The god's name lengthened into an agonizing moan as he felt the object force its way inside of his body, regardless of the muscle tightening to reject it. "_But - _but you _said_ -" his voice was shrill as he tried to form a coherent sentence.

"I said what, mortal?"

"You weren't going to -"

Loki interrupted him with a sigh, harsh with annoyance. "I said I would not enter you. I meant my own body. I never said anything of sexual aids."

Steve held back the sobs, trying to relax somehow with that _thing_ in him. "Sexual aids...?" Bile rose in his throat, but it never quite spilled over his tongue. The nausea roiled and burnt like acid there.

"I believe the Midgardian term is sexual _toy_."

Steve gagged. Loki began working the toy back and forth, gently twisting. He watched Steve's back as the muscles slid fluidly underneath the flesh as he tensed, the lines and shadows hypnotizing in his pain. He removed the toy and replaced it with a larger, unmercifully pushing it inside. There was a little red, and Steve cried out as he felt the minute tears in the tender tissues.

Loki used his free hand to idly stroke himself, fingertips sliding over the curve of the tip. He shuddered at the pleasure and repeated the process a few times - switching out the toys for larger ones, teasing himself til he had to stop altogether for a few moments to retain control. He left a large toy lodged into the Captain, who had by now broken down and sobbed openly. His shoulders shook with the force. Little trickles of blood ran down the backs of his thighs. Loki walked casually to face Steve. His face was flushed.

"Soldier, how are you enjoying this?"

Steve looked up at him but remained silent, choking on his sobs. His nose ran down his face. Sweat, tears and mucus gleamed on his skin like a polish, and Loki grimaced. "You are disgusting." He grabbed some tissues and roughly wiped the man's face off. He circled back around and pulled the toy out quickly, Steve emitting a sound somewhere between a screech and a moan. Loki finally grabbed what he'd been waiting to use. He fixed it into Steve's body, more painful than the rest. It was a speculum, gleaming silver. Loki watched it sink partially inside of Steve's body and then open him up.

Loki ignored the jerking of Steve's body as he heaved from the pain. The man was opened fully to him, all sensitive pink flesh, tight heat. He again moved around to look down at Steve's face. Sweat continued to drip down his reddened forehead and cheeks. Steve's eyes watered and blood-tinted drool strung from his lips as he gagged. Loki grabbed a fistful of the damp blond hair. He jerked Steve's head up, causing the man to groan. He looked exhausted and tortured. Loki licked his lips.

"I enjoy your suffering. What part of this makes you so ill, Rogers? Is it that you're finally on your knees below me? Hm?" He tightened his grip around Steve's hair. His free hand stroked himself. "Is it that there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop me?"

Steve just up at him blankly. His body was sore and trembling. Sweat covered every inch of his skin. He couldn't bring himself to believe that this was really happening. Loki's eyes burned down into his own, his lips twisted in that smirk of his, as he pumped into his own hand. Loki let go of his hair and instead gripped his face, fingernails digging into the tender wounded cheeks. Steve moaned in pain and Loki's eyes rolled back. Steve twitched and blinked back against Loki's orgasm, the warm liquid stinging his wounds. His stomach twisted and he heaved hard as Loki let his face go. Bile finally spilled over, and he vomited in little spurts on the floor. How Loki laughed.

He'd returned to the back. Steve was sobbing again, humiliation washing over him in shameful waves. He waited for Loki to remove whatever was ripping him open, disgusted but happy for this to be finally over. He winced thinking of how he'd have to get medical treatment, how they would know - what if Tony made jokes? What if everyone looked at him differently?

Instead of removing anything, he felt Loki thrust another object inside of him, jabbing insistently on a tender spot. Steve made low, groaning sounds of pain, his voice ragged. He felt his body respond to the movements in a way he didn't intend it to. Loki's voice rang out over the pain. "You know, soldier, I've learnt much of your history. The history of your pitiful countries on this horrible little planet. Your world's Nazis used a technique such as this to force the seed out of males in their concentration camps." He paused to let the Captain imagine the horrors of that time, compare his pain to concentration camp victims. "We shall see how effective they really were."

Loki ground against that spot inside of Steve. Although the man's genitals now throbbed, he only felt the excruciating pain of Loki's rough twisting and nudging. He felt a burst of warm tingles low in his abdomen, the quick hot release. The pleasure was only a spark within the darkness of his torture. Loki laughed appreciatively, removing the objects from Steve's body. Strange syllables and phrases escaped Loki's lips, fingers moving briefly through the air. Steve collapsed from the raised area he had been restrained on, crumpling on the floor. His body ached ferociously. He closed his eyes and tried to summon the strength to even move.

Loki walked by him, no longer looking interested. "Well, Captain. I'm finished here. I grow weary of your presence, but I've a little more work to do." Through Steve's hazy exhaustion, alarms rang within him. "More to...?" he mumbled.

"More to do, yes," Loki snapped. "It was truly a delicious and _satisfying_ treat to degrade you. I came to think, what _else_ can I do to humiliate this terrible excuse of a man? And it was suddenly so clear." Loki squatted next to Steve, grinning a nasty Cheshire smile. Steve noticed that he was fully clothed again. "I am going to heal you."

Steve waited a beat and laughed. The laugh echoed in his own ears, bitter and hollow, a mockery of a laugh. "How..." he coughed, mouth dry. He tasted metal. He wanted to ask Loki how this could be bad at all. He felt a tentative sense of relief.

"Yes. Generous, I know. For once you are healed, you will never be able to share this with anyone. You will think of this night for the rest of your life. I will haunt your dreams, Captain. You will fear my presence, look for me in the night. You will always belong to me, and there is not one shred of evidence as to _why_ you act that way. No one will believe you. I may cure your body, Soldier... but you will not be able to cure being a paranoid liability to your fellow Avengers."

Steve's heart sank. He fought the exhaustion as hard as he could, trying to come to terms with what Loki had said. "No," he whined softly, body sagging. He gave out and slipped unconscious. Loki stood and straightened his clothing, checked his nails. He still had much work to do.


	2. Consequence

**Author's Note: **This set if one-shots are very graphic and unforgiving. I just have these horrific thoughts - how much pain or humiliation or sorrow (what have you) can I put these characters through? How hard is it going to be? What goes through their minds in some of the darkest moments of their lives? **Any trigger you might imagine****, consider it warned against right now.** This includes violence, language, sex, rape, death, and abuse, to rattle off a few if all my ideas come together the way they should. This will **not** be pretty and it is **not** being written as a means of sexual arousal; whatever you happen to do on your own time in the privacy of your own home is none of my business, but I'd like it to be known that this is not the goal of this project.

None of these scenarios are necessarily following the plot of any of the movies or comics universes. There will be very brief background summaries at the beginning of each chapter. I don't know how often I will update, as these are all separate stories.

**Hard.  
**  
**Chapter Two: Consequence.  
**  
**Summary:** Natasha reflects on the decisions leading up to the present.

Natasha sat quietly in her car, her hard gaze focused on the brick of the building before her. Her knuckles gripped the steering wheel, whitening. She took in a measured breath, exhaling in a little puff. She steeled herself against the trembles that threatened to take over her small, strong hands. She knew it would only travel up her arms, throughout her core, radiating. If there was one thing she was especially good at, it was keeping her cool. She checked herself in the rearview mirror. A different person looked back, a wig and makeup making for a striking difference in her face.

The first challenge was entering the building. Natasha finally pulled her keys from the ignition and grabbed her purse, shutting the door a little too roughly. She pressed a button on her key-chain and waited for the reassuring beep. Doors locked.

Natasha did not give in to the urge to pause before entering the building. Other people littered the room, reading old magazines or staring mindlessly into space. A couple of women watched children as they toddled around some toys on the floor. She took no interest in these people. She ventured to the front desk, where an older woman with glasses sat at a computer. The woman smiled brightly at Natasha. "Hi there!" she said.

Natasha fed her the fake information, not once smiling back. The woman gave her a clipboard, some things to fill out. Natasha chose a seat by the corner, away from the majority of people. Her mind went off on its own while she filled out the papers.

It was one month prior to this moment when Natasha slipped up. It was tiny, a hairline crack, just a half of a second of heat that sparked and fizzled just as quickly inside of her - but that's all it took. Loki had leaned against the thick glass of his cage, pounded his fist against it uselessly. The venomous words meant nothing to her, no - she'd been a great actress. It was her duty to be somebody else, always, an art perfected to a point where she sometimes wondered who exactly she was at all anymore.

But this wasn't an identity crisis. As Loki stared hard at her, his lips dripping venom - "... long enough to see his good work..." - she had feigned the fear, forced the tears. Jarring as his statements were, she had heard much worse. It would take a lot to shake the Black Widow; however, she couldn't deny imagining him using that verbal vigor in the bedroom. It was a fleeting thought.

Nothing happened until the Chitauri arrived. One moment, she was fighting off the revolting things with Thor and Cap - she was getting tired, but she knew how deeply her reserves reached. She was far from being finished. The next moment, Loki had grabbed her from the air, plucking her as he would a flower. He flew her right to Stark's tower on the strange alien vehicle. She did not harm him - that was a dire mistake, but only her first mistake.

They did a strange dance, predatory, as they entered Stark's home. Neither of them had any way of knowing that only a bit later, Loki would be beaten and captured in this very room. Loki watched her with his narrowed eyes, a psychotic grin on his lips. "Natasha. So we meet again," he said. "It's a pleasure."

Natasha's expression did not change. She kept it blank, kept her guard way up. "The pleasure's all mine," she responded flatly.

He laughed at this, advancing. She held her ground, still now. She stood in a natural, defensive stance. Loki licked his lips and advanced again, hands up slightly. "I will not harm you, Black Widow - unless _that_ would please you."

She cracked a smile. Loki was undoubtedly the enemy and needed to be captured, but she appreciated the witty banter. She dealt with absolute brute morons so often that she accepted Loki's sass with gratitude. "I guess _all_ men are the same, alien or otherwise," she mused. When Loki stepped closer, Natasha stayed still. _Just a bit closer._ That's all she needed.

"I am unlike any man," he said. His eyes were piercing her, dredging up desire from the depths of her carefully stowed emotions. "I would be happy to prove that."

"You seem awfully cocky for having lived your life in somebody else's shadow." She waited for the second Loki's expression changed to something darker than lust, waited for him to take a step forward - _there we go._ She jumped and scissored his throat between her powerful thighs. She clenched them through air, Loki's form vanishing easily beneath her. She didn't anticipate it. She landed on the floor, the alarm cutting through her and preventing her from thinking to land safely. Her hip met the floor with a painful thud and she stifled a cry, gritting her teeth and moving back to her feet.

No such luck. The god appeared above her, grinning once more, pinning her to the ground. She cracked her forehead against his, but he barely flinched. Pain flared through her skull. She refused to show any signs of weakness or pain. Loki could _not_ win.

"I would have allowed your thighs to grace my shoulders had you asked," he said in a low voice. He wasn't hiding his enjoyment, his eyes glittering. Natasha smirked. "Straight to the dirty, then. Don't you know you're supposed to wine and dine me first?" she responded dryly. He laughed. "I'd say it's a special occasion, wouldn't you?"

Natasha gasped as Loki threw her arms above her, pinning them easily with one hand. His free hand pulled on her zipper. She kicked and squirmed, but he managed to unzip down past her navel. He freed her breasts and admired them. "Come now, love, stop struggling. There's nothing shameful about what we're to do here." His mouth was on her then, teasing and tracing. She fought the pleasure. "Loki, get the fuck off of me. This is - do you Asgardians condone rape, then? Does it make you feel tough?" She couldn't stand the feeling of being bested, and equally couldn't stand the heat boiling just below her belt. Natasha did not take kindly to humiliation or domination.

Loki's tongue ran up her throat. "Darling, we both know this isn't an act of rape. You _crave_ me." She bit the insides of her cheeks and lips as he trailed his mouth over her throat and earlobe. When he reached her lips, she bit his tongue as it danced against hers. He pulled back only to chuckle at her.

She's not sure where the tipping point was. One moment she was angrily fighting back, and the next she was angrily returning his kiss. She bit at his lips and pressed her body up against his. At some point he had let her arms free, and she never thought twice. Her fingers tangled into his hair and yanked. He pulled off her uniform and his own clothing had disappeared - and just like that, he was inside of her. She'd held back making noise until this point, and she was practically wailing as he sank repeatedly into her body. It was the way she'd always wished Clint would fuck her - roughly and mercilessly. But Clint and his ways were far from her mind in that moment.

Loki brought her to orgasm quickly. It was so powerful it was almost painful, and she bit into his shoulder. A few more strokes and he wrapped his hand around her throat as he came, her head cracking against the floor. He squeezed too tightly, and for a fleeting moment she thought he wouldn't let go.

He did let go, removing himself from her body and becoming re-dressed at the snap of his wrist. She put her suit back on with some difficulty, being sweatier than she had been before. She glanced at Loki and caught his smug expression. She set her jaw in annoyance and turned away, walking back outside onto the giant balcony. She could sense Loki close behind her. He ran a hand through her hair and hummed a little laugh. "It appears I've caught the Spider," he teased. She jerked her head away from his touch and whirled to face him, bright with anger.

"You didn't _catch_ anyth-"

Suddenly his strong palms shoved against her chest. She was toppling over the side of the building, watching his smirk as it rapidly grew further away from her. She turned her body and desperately tried to figure out a way to live. She thanked nothing in particular as she crashed on top of one of the Chitauri. Quickly she gained balance on the moving vehicle and the squirming, screeching body beneath her. She rammed her potent fists into its head and shoved it off of the vehicle, gaining control. Loki zoomed past on a vehicle of his own, winking at her.

Later on, as Thor guided a restrained and muzzled Loki to the place they'd teleport back to Asgard, the God of Mischief had glanced at her for a moment before lowering his eyes. She caught the minute twitch around his eyes, crinkling as he smiled underneath the muzzle. It disappeared as soon as she'd caught it, and she had to control the hammering in her heart. She leaned to Clint and whispered to him. "Look at the goddamn muzzle. Like a yippy little dog." Clint smiled as he watched the Asgardians. She hoped Loki heard, but his eyes stayed downcast.

Now she gripped the clipboard as she walked back to the reception desk to relinquish it. She would be seen soon.

Soon came _too_ soon. She was led to the back. She nodded and responded to the nurse's questions and precautions, her mind stuck in that moment a month past. She caught random words and made sense of them enough to follow along convincingly - _like menstrual cramps; safe procedure_ - and followed silently as she was taken into a different room.

She stripped after the nurse left and put on a paper gown. She lay back and waited for another nurse to come in. The nurse propped her legs up and checked her out a little. There was an ultrasound, and Natasha turned her head away for the duration of it. She had no interest in seeing _it_ up on a screen, mocking her ability to keep control. Finally, the woman overseeing her prepared the machine meant to remove Loki from her once and for all.

Before anything began, Natasha stared hard at the woman. "I don't want any anesthetic, or whatever."

The woman furrowed her brow at Natasha's request, and then smiled uncertainly. "Sweetheart, I think that's - It's there to help with the discomfort. I recommend that you have it." She took Natasha's hand, but she pulled away before the doctor could continue. "I know what it's for, and I would like to decline." Her tone was hard and final, and the woman didn't question her again.

Over a short period, the doctor had opened up her cervix. The rods she inserted caused white, hot pain to stab through her like shards of glass. She remained absolutely rigid and silent, the pain much greater than she predicted. It took almost all of her concentration to remain still, and the rest to not start screaming. A few tears rolled from her eyes, but she never so much as let her lips quiver. She focused on how deserving she was of the pain. It crashed through her, like so many knives slicing her apart. She thought grimly, _this is what childbirth must be like_.

The doctor started speaking. She wanted to screech at her to _shut the fuck up_, but she focused on breathing evenly instead. "I'm going to insert the tube now, and we will begin to empty the uterus." Natasha glared at the ceiling.

The hum of the machine was something for her to grab onto. She tried to imagine the pain as something outside of her body; this wasn't happening. It was somebody else. At the same time, she hoped Loki could watch. She hoped he somehow knew that she was letting this stranger rip his potential offspring from her body. She tried hard to reclaim herself as something other than What The God Had Conquered.

Clint had known something was up, but she never had the guts to confess to him. When they fucked, he was tender and passionate as he ever was, and she was busy watching Loki behind her eyelids, remembering the fire patterns he had traced on her skin. Remembering his ferocity. She deserved this for allowing Loki to manipulate her, and especially for betraying Clint.

After several long, searing minutes, the tube was removed from her body. She managed to turn enough to glance at the container attached to it. She hadn't known what to expect - did a month-old pregnancy yield a tiny body? If it did, she couldn't find it. She was clueless to many things involving reproduction aside from the main act. She stared into the dark red puddle in the container. She felt relieved.

The doctor allowed her time to recover. Natasha scanned the room out of habit for cameras. _Of course there aren't cameras in a clinic. Stupid._ Free from company and recording devices, she let a small sob escape her and cried quietly over the pain and the desperate moment that led to it all.

As she was on her way out, still sore and strapped with a maxi-pad to collect the bleeding, she was given instructions and bottles with pain relievers and antibiotics. As the doctor pressed the pain relievers into Natasha's hand, she urged her to take them. Natasha nodded once and said nothing. She stuffed the pills and information pamphlets and papers into her over-sized purse. She would dispose of the papers before returning to headquarters, and replace the pill bottles with something a little more discreet. She left the building and slid sunglasses over her wet eyes. As she got into her car, she took a deep breath and hardened up, filing her emotions away in the back of her mind. She had no time to continue feeling.

She was Black Widow.


End file.
